The Keeper of my Forever
by Doctor Faustus
Summary: One merciless wish and the desire to own what one cannot name. Rated for dark themes and some sexual references. ::Sebastian/Ciel::
1. Chapter 1

He was standing here again. The smell of the rain flooding his senses and the rust of the metal gate scraping against his fingertips. What was it that drove him to come to this dilapidated apartment block over and over, he wondered, checking his watch. It was cold out, the wind driving errant raindrops into the corridor itself as he straightened his black jacket and brushed off any specks of dust. The years had taken away the familiar styles which were now antiquated and stilted, and he was no longer just a butler, but somehow his obsession with an immaculate appearance had never faded.

Somewhere around the corner, a neighbour's dog barked.

Reaching out to press the doorbell, he was mildly surprised when the door swung open abruptly.

"Oh. It's you." A voice, bored and disinterested.

Even now, some things never changed.

He forced himself to smile, wondering at the furtive emotion that worked its way into him stealthily. The young man before him looked even paler than he did on his last visit. His hair was longer now and a little shaggy, falling past his shoulders in a glossy blue-black. His long hair only accentuated the sharpness of his face. His eyes were half-lidded, almost hazed over.

"Expecting someone else, are we?"

He laughed shortly then, a flash of clarity in those cold blue eyes, before he turned the lock to let him in.

Sebastian followed him in, looking at the house surreptitiously. Nothing much had changed in the past year, and the apartment was still sparsely decorated, painted in a cream that was largely flaking, the furniture mostly black and modern. His young lord would rather die before admitting that he missed the older days, and he didn't know if that fact appealed to him more out of the fact that it was utterly pathetic, or if he was truly losing his edge in his old age.

"Tea?" the young man smirked a little, setting down a cup in front of him.

The porcelain was chipped and the tea was of an inferior quality.

He sipped it anyway.

"Thank you, young master."

He snorted, looking disgusted as he curled up on the black chaise, looking for a moment like the young earl he'd always adored.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Ah, but you'd always be my young master, no matter how many years have passed."

"Nothing stays the same forever, Sebastian. Haven't you lived long enough to notice that one small fact? You can drop the nice and polite act too, by the way. You're not my butler anymore so stop pretending you're doing this out of your prized aesthetics."

"If I may say so, such vitriol at the very start of our meeting isn't very becoming."

"What are you doing here?"

"It's your birthday. Aren't you accustomed to finding me on your doorstep every year on this day?"

"Yes, and every year my birthday wish is for you to disappear. I can only keep hoping, right?

"Oh, you wound me so easily with these harsh words, young master."

He got a glare for his efforts.

Ciel Phantomhive stood and stretched, the knitted shirt riding up and exposing the slenderness of his waist. When Ciel had answered the door, he had noticed how his collarbones had jutted out, the shirt hanging loose on him and making him appear waif-like, but nothing had really prepared him for being able to see the faint outline of his ribs as his young master began to turn and walk away, his hands running through his hair to tie it in a loose ponytail.

"I'm not kidding, Sebastian. Don't call me that anymore. I'm done with my old life, with the Phantomhives, with the Queen, with everything. I'm no longer who I used to be."

"I know that."

He just wanted -

"You can find your own way out."

"Happy birthday…Ciel."

Ashes. The words tasted of them.

* * *

END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

The moon was a bare sliver that night.

On his way to the apartment, he had been accosted by several boys who wanted to know what he was doing in a neighbourhood like this, dressed all fancy. It only took him a few minutes to make the eldest break down and run for it, the rest panting at his heels, and still he wanted to kill them for making him tarry at this juncture. Already, the cakes he had baked for the young master were beginning to cool.

He sensed the settling of the winter frost, his throat dry as he lingered by the open corridor. The lift had rattled upwards slowly, inch by inch, and so, he had plenty of time to consider all the possible reasons he could use to justify his visit.

When he had left the young master the night before, cold and unsatisfied, he had stepped out into the streets with the chill settling into his bones, and walked right into the evening fog, so achingly familiar. He remembered the unevenness of the stones paving their way, the steady click of their shoes across the ruins and the black soot that had rested against white pillars. Across from them were the broken masses of stone and marble, and the cold had been present even then, a gift in the early hours of the day as his young master gazed at him impassively, languidly, and requested his death.

And then, just as swiftly, took it back again.

He shuddered hard, an intense memory burning into his mind as it replayed itself.

_A small mouth, pursed with the unpleasant taste of blood. Crimson dripping off the side of that sharp chin as glittering eyes, defiant, pleading, helpless, anguished – looked up at him and long, elegant fingers pulled him closer._

"_More," he whispered. _

Sebastian breathed in deeply, a tingling sensation running down his spine. It had been so many years ago and he remembered each detail in a cold, diamond clarity.

His young master had been every inch the lord he had known, until the very last moments. The child had called for his death, as unperturbed as though he was demanding to sample a particular pastry, and in the final moments, the boy had still responded admirably in the face of his quaking terror. Smiling, he had leant in closer, delighted by the close proximity of his prey and his long awaited feast, smelling the light fragrance that clung to the lapels of the boy's shirt and the smooth silk of his neck which was a pleasure to caress and to grip in iron steadfastness as he leant in even closer. He watched that blue eye blink and dilate in possible fear and arousal, and he had dived in for his long-anticipated reward, almost snarling in his impatience.

It had hurt. He had enough blood on his hands to know how bad it could get but his suspicions were confirmed when his young master gasped and bucked beneath him, his body writhing and long, elegant fingers clawing at his back helplessly, his mouth hot and wanton as Sebastian drank in the finest distillation of a living soul and indulged in its uniquely rich, splendid taste. The young master had cried out against his mouth then, and whispered for more and he struggled to recall a moment where he had adored his shallow, weak master more.

He had caught his breath, a single finger tracing the path of Ciel's face until it swiped away an errant drop of a glimmering, liquid sphere. Was it pride, or was it sorrow, that buried itself in his heart when he saw the child gasp, his breath unsteady as he struggled to reacquaint himself with reality.

A little more and the child would die.

A little more and this moment would surrender to the inevitable.

His thoughts raced, his hand still gently caressing the boy's hair, the child looking up at him with the strangest expression, one mingled with as much resignation as there was pain. He wanted to laugh, to weep, to cut away the ties between them until he could no longer sense this tiresome blend of emotions that made him unlike himself.

"Ask me," he whispered at last.

If his young master desired it, _nothing_ would stand in his way. He would tear apart the inevitable ending to create a place for the boy to exist, a place untainted with the trenches of sorrow and despair that Sebastian had saved him from.

The boy look startled at his demand, his eyes already drooping from the effort and the raw, torn anguish that must have been wrecking his fragile frame. Already his hands were beginning to fall from Sebastian's shoulders, and he shivered incessantly with the wintry weather and the loss of his blood.

"Ask, and I will do it," he promised quietly, resting his forehead against Ciel's own.

The child shuddered and breathed in painfully, his eyes dilated with agony.

"Sebastian…save me."

Demons lied as easily as they breathed.

Really, the young master should have known better than to have been so vague.

* * *

END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

"Sebastian, you're being entirely inappropriate."

And there it was again, the snobbish behaviour and the slight upward tilt of his face indicating his displeasure with the situation. Small hints of his lord's old behaviour surfaced from time to time, and suddenly it didn't seem as impossible for them to return to the past. Ciel was staring at him now, a tinge of impatience inching into his expression as he waited expectantly for a proper answer. Sebastian schooled his face into a neutral blank and considered his next move.

"These are leftovers from my lord's tea-party this afternoon. I was about to throw them away, and then I thought someone around here could benefit from the scraps."

The boy stares at him for a little while, before a hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

"I thought you demons were supposed to be good at lying," Ciel sniffs, before opening the door wider to admit him and the cakes, which he is dismayed to realise are still hot.

-

_He drifts off a little, coming back to himself sharply when he feels a tug on his sleeve. The young Earl was looking up at him, his eyes regaining some of their brilliant clarity, a small hand lifting tiredly to wipe at the blood on his face. _

"_Sebastian. W-why, do I feel so different. What did you do?"_

"_Do? Nothing, my lord. You drank some of my blood and that has started to cause certain changes in your body. The entire process will most likely be completed in an hour or two. Please don't worry about it; I'm confident that it will turn out fine."_

"_What? What changes are you talking about?"_

"_Well…"_

_He braced himself for the inevitable backlash._

-

His young lord pretended to be capable of taking care of himself, and Sebastian knew that on some level, the boy could function without him. However, when it came to the aesthetics that took hundreds and hundreds of years to hone to a needle-sharp point, there was no real competition against the taste of the tea brewed to perfection. Ciel was probably lounging around in the living room, his long hair fanned indolently against the black velvet chaise, as he sampled the delicate confectionaries he'd brought with him.

Even after all this time, he was still one hell of a butler.

While the tea steeped, he had precious minutes to spare. He managed to wash a basket of laundry, dust the shelves, polish the floors and shine the windows, until the sound of a throat being cleared loudly from the living room, reminded him that this was no longer the Phantomhive mansion and he was no longer required to singlehandedly maintain the basic upkeep of a vast estate.

Even so, for the house of his master to be in such disarray…

He sighed imperceptibly, bringing the two cups of tea back into the living room without further ado.

Ciel spared him a long, amused look.

"Got seduced by the laundry basket on the way out, did you?"

-

_It was a little ironic how the common ambition to prolong life and vigour, had the fruits of its labour fall so easily into his unwilling master's lap. At the ruins, he had but a few moments to decide on his course of action as Ciel's condition deteriorated visibly with each passing second, oblivion taking him when pain had proven superior to his determination. So he had taken matters into his own hands, even while knowing that Ciel would be angry. He had been cautiously optimistic that his young master would be relieved when he learnt that he would no longer suffer the ravages of time, but it seemed that the child had more comprehension of the subject than he had previously assumed._

_There was one catch to this immortality that Sebastian offered. True immortality could only be given to the angels or the demons that scoured the earth in search of their prey. The violent transfusion of his own blood into the young master's bloodstream, had only offered an imitation of eternal youth. _

_The young master would age, surely, but the years had lengthened for him as it did for no one else. _

_He would remain a child, past the age where his childhood companions had grown old, and died. He would remain youthful beyond the fall of exalted Britain's empire, the echoes of the gunshots of the great wars and the rise of new and powerful young countries. By the time Ciel became an adult, he would have survived longer than anyone he could possibly known, condemned to live until his lifespan was cut short, unnaturally or otherwise. _

_He wasn't impervious to injury, nor was he protected from death in any form. Sebastian had counted on that, trusting himself to be the one to end Ciel's misery, when dotage bore upon his young master, as it did for no one else on the planet, leaving him helpless and in the grip of pain for an uncountable number of years. _

_In the meantime, he could only protect and serve._

-

"Life at the Whitfield's has been fine, thank you for asking." Sebastian said casually, sipping his tea.

Ciel merely rolled his eyes at the jibe, his fingers tugging absently at the collar of his shirt. All this time had passed and Sebastian was amused to find that the young master's preoccupation with his cravat had remained constant.

"Well. You are a butler to the core after all. I trust you haven't been giving your new master any grief?"

His smiled broadened.

"Ah, but he claims to love games as well."

Casual. Deliberate. He aimed for perfection in his tone of light teasing, and came up with something that breathed of cruelty and aimed to hurt. It seared him when Ciel pinned him with a look so intense it seemed to settle and burn right through him, leaving him exposed and faintly insecure when seconds slid past, and nothing was said.

"Does he now?" the young man murmured at last, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stood to leave.

-

_The lord had cooped himself up in his room for the past few days, only emerging long enough to have his meals before retreating into the familiar sanctuary. He had seen too many traumatised children to find this an unusual behavioural pattern. They clung to the familiar, desperately avoiding any fragment of contagion with that which was deemed threatening to their mental stability. He was beginning to think that a severance of their contract was impending, until the young master woke up one morning and calmly requested for him to arrange a meeting with the Marchioness. _

_He hadn't liked the idea of his lord making the young lady Elizabeth cry, but he had his orders to stay out of Ciel's affairs and allow him to handle the last of it. Sebastian didn't like the air of finality that turn of phrase portended, but he couldn't claim to be surprised either when his young master had called for an annulment of his engagement to the Lady Elizabeth that same morning. _

_His young master did have the grace to allow the Marchioness and her daughter to learn of his decision before he sought the Queen's approval. It wasn't an affair that needed further spectacle to add to its impropriety, but oh, how the girl wept, her tempestuous emotions in utter upheaval in light of Ciel's betrayal. She had been the first to welcome Ciel back amongst the ruins of London, and her feelings had rebounded tenfold in her joy to find her fiancé alive and well. The latest revelation threatened to break her spirits completely, and the Marchioness had mercifully sent Elizabeth home to await her decision on the matter._

_Since young, his young master had always been cautious in his dealings with the strict Marchioness, Frances Middleford, a woman of unshakeable principles and cast iron will. Hence, Sebastian hadn't expected to be ordered into the room where they were having a personal discussion. It might have been a heated one, except for the steely look in Ciel's eyes which indicated otherwise._

"_What is the meaning of this, Ciel? Surely you do not believe this to be an appropriate time to assign household chores to your butler?" said Lady Frances, her tone scathing._

"_Take off your gloves, Sebastian," was the quiet reply._

_Calmly, the boy reached behind him and slid the eyepatch off with practised ease, revealing the eye that glowed an uncanny purple. Sebastian distantly heard the woman gasp, but his attention focused on his small master, his frail shoulders steadfast as he coolly explained the intricacies of their intimate relationship. _

_Butler. Murderer. Demon. _

_Silence fell over the room when his young master had finished speaking._

_Then her voice, soft and pained,_

"…_after today, I have no nephew. I will approve of your decision to annul the engagement."_

"_Lady Middleford…" Sebastian began._

"_I have no business with you, demon. And Ciel, if your parents had known how low you have fallen, you would have made them weep in grief, more so than anything else in their lives had given them cause to succumb to despair."_

_She left the room, her head held high as she swept out, ignoring Sebastian's perfunctory bow._

_In front of him, Ciel's expression was unreadable as he continued to gaze out of those tall glass windows wordlessly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the window ledge, the light throwing his form into shadow. _

-

He picked up a magazine, mindful of his position as an unwelcome guest, although Ciel hadn't ordered him to depart immediately. The living room was unexpectedly neat in comparison to the rest of the apartment and he wondered how he had never noticed that before. He wondered briefly what Ciel's bedroom would be like, but he had an inkling that it would be as messy as the kitchen and the small balcony that had open boxes thrown into some semblance of order at the side.

A small windchime hung over the balcony, chiming morosely with the night breeze.

There were few things in the living room; several pieces of black furniture, velvet sleek and lush in their exotic appearance in comparison to the flaking ceiling and the pale lines of water marks that skimmed several of the walls.

Sebastian's eyes widened in shock as Ciel emerged from his bedroom, shaking out his hair from its loose ponytail. His eyes were rimmed in black, making them look wider and more childlike in the sharp, pale face. A white shirt was loosely buttoned, exposing his collarbones and low enough to fall to his hips, giving him the impression of one that fully expected to lose the clothes as easily as they had been pulled on. The light blue jeans clung to him and made Sebastian uncomfortably aware of his own inclinations, and the disturbing surge of desire to make Ciel yield, to surrender in this endless game so he could claim his prize. It would be so easy, he thought, watching Ciel brush his hair out, his bare feet leaving droplets of water across the smooth concrete floor.

But that would be an act that threatened to expose him too, a capitulation that risked Ciel learning exactly how much he affected Sebastian with the barest of actions; the shrugging on of a jacket, the rhythmic sway of a sleek ponytail, the gentle wave of a hand, both elegant and bored.

He would never let Ciel learn of this foolish weakness.

"I suggest you leave before my client comes," Ciel said mildly as he fastened a necklace around his neck.

Client? He wasn't even been aware that Ciel had been working. He watched dumbfounded as his lord unbuttoned another button at the top of his shirt deliberately, his eyes catching Sebastian's as he did so. When it clicked in his head, disgust, contempt and rage fought for dominance in him, his fury inexplicable and tempting him to tear apart the boy's client and all the others that had dared to touch what was _his._

"Why?" was all he could manage through gritted teeth, unwilling to crack and reveal his horror that someone else had gotten to his young master before he did, the sharp sting of shame and jealousy twisting in him like a sharp blade.

Ciel shrugged elegantly.

"It pays well and it's all the same to me."

"Young master, I invested those stocks for you personally. I balanced your chequebooks and I knew exactly which banks to place the Phantomhive's liquid assets into to maximise your funds. I can even tell you precisely to the last digit, how much money you have earned from the interest alone, and that it is a sum which entire families can survive on for the rest of their lives if they spent wisely."

"So, tell me, why do you have to resort to this?" he asked bitterly, unwilling to let his last semblance of restraint slip from his fingers, lest he succumb to his baser desires and violate the tenuous bond between them with his harsh actions.

Ciel didn't answer for some time, choosing instead to open the front door and letting the cold December wind blow into the apartment, filling it with that same aching nostalgia, memories of gentle rain against the water's surface, the last of the ashes falling from scorched roofs, and the dust sparkling in the morning light as the taste of molten chocolate in his mouth blended with the bitterness of fallen pillars in off-white marble, cobbled together in the courtyard where only the two of them had stood...

The child who had lost all knowledge of laughter, turned to smile at Sebastian faintly.

"This is how I choose to live."

* * *

END CHAPTER


	4. Chapter 4

Another world, another place, another man.

A layer of skin, a fine membrane that separated one reality from another, the sordid black that spilt over one now carved down the middle by his wilfulness, and now the darkness had dripped slowly, steadily into the leftover of the worlds.

The client's footsteps tap out a sharp rhythm on the paved sidewalk, the silence of the street accompanying the extinguishing of the street lamps with every step he took.

There he looks over his shoulder for a brief moment as an unaccountable chill settles itself heavily over his shoulder and breathes down his neck.

He wondered what it felt like to die, even as his neck was snapped cleanly into half.

Beside his body, the demon smiles.

-

It took Sebastian another two months before he returned to the same house, the same place where the game continued through dawn and dusk and the two of them were left grappling with the same nothingness.

Ciel hadn't summoned him, and there was nothing that he could possibly gain from this visit. He had only hours to spare before his new master awoke to the start of a new day, and his duties as a butler began all over again. He was the carrier of death and waste and sin, and slowly the stones beneath his feet were cracking under the hollow echo of his polished boots. As the merchant of death, he had stood on the edge of the world and known the decayed fingers of the dark for what they were.

Another piece had fallen.

He knew that, repeated it to himself, and still his feet took him closer to the apartment.

The lift rattled upwards slowly, and in the blinking darkness of the metal cage, his eyes were as clear as fresh spilt blood against the snow.

"You have that look in your eyes again."

The door swung open, and Ciel let him in without another word.

Silent, they sat in the living room, each unwilling to crack the fraught tension, until Ciel stood to leave, his face a badly masked expression of impatience. A touch of fear lingered under it, and he savoured it that delicious emotion, before the shimmer of blue eyes were turned down to meet the floor.

_Oh, my young master,_

"Who is it?" Ciel breathed, his voice unnatural and choked.

_The colour of heaven,_

"Only the last piece that remains."

_Was not meant for eyes such as yours. _

"Finian."

His young master had turned away, his steps unsteady. He had been thrust aside roughly even as he tried to guide the young master into his room, blindly searching for the familiar grip of flaking walls that encased the tenuous threads of life into a semblance of reality. He couldn't speak to voice out his terror, nor explain what his hands were reaching for as he curled deeper into himself like an injured animal, pushing him further away.

The loss of a child, the pain of one abandoned by everything familiar –

He had seen the same scene before.

"How?"

"A minor accident. A small loss of control which escalated into an unavoidable circumstance."

The young master managed to breathe, a harsh, choked gasp as those eyes brimmed unexpectedly, pale fingers digging deeper into the covers in a vain bid to assuage the pain that gripped his heart.

"Young master, he was old, there is nothing that could prevent the inevitable from happening."

"Get out." the young master snarled, his slender shoulders shaking as his wild eyes searched the room blindly, looking for something which Sebastian couldn't fathom of.

"Young master – "

"How many times have I fucking told you not to call me that!" Ciel shouted at him, his fury making his shoulders shake as his fists were tightly balled as though he was itching to hit him. The bitterness in his voice deepened as his eyes turned to his hands, nails cutting deeper and deeper until the crescents of blood appeared beneath his fingernails.

"If I hadn't erased the company, would he have…no, that isn't the issue anymore." He breathed unsteadily, a hand rising uncertainly to brush away the tears that wouldn't stop falling.

"The past is gone, Sebastian. Stop chasing your master, he doesn't exist anymore. The Phantomhive family has been erased from history, the Queen has long passed on, everyone I know is gone and there's not a single person left in this world who remembers who is Ciel Phantomhive."

Was this tenuous emotion known to be regret?

What was it that made him this weak and ready to debase himself? For decades, he had been tied to this same foolish human, now crying in his arms even as he struggled to be freed, a single soul that begged for something, anything to take away the pain and taking off the edge from razor sharp emotions that threatened to break them.

"I remember. Even if there is no one else on earth who will remember the young master, I will. Until the bitter end, I will follow you."

Ciel cried harder, his slender body racking with his sobs as his arms gripped Sebastian fiercely, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Please don't leave me. Not you too. Please don't leave."

He would always remember the warm heat of Ciel's body, even as his fingers slipped tenderly against back of his neck, feeling the fine brush of silken hair against his knuckles.

"Don't I always keep my promises? I'd never leave you."

Outside, the pregnant moon was tinged in red.

* * *

END CHAPTER


	5. Chapter 5

They say that demons never sleep.

Where every motion of the human world ticked a pace slower, the falling of each flower petal could be caught before it could brush the crumbled earth. Wide awake, the eyes of the demons glitter in anticipation of the weaknesses of humans, where their eyes could look right through you, their ears sharpened to catch every trembling hitch of your voice.

He closed his eyes and waited for the dawn, feeling the chill of the night breeze against his skin.

Instinctively, his arms protectively held the younger boy closer to him, shielding him from the cold. His back was turned to the window, but he was aware of the angle at which the moonlight caught on the slant of the window pane. The years passed like grains of sand through his fingers, but every once in a while, he stopped to caress the days, engaging in an almost sinful indulgence to breathe, to regard the moon with affection as it glided gracefully across the midway skies.

Some days, he could almost taste the exquisite kiss of a single day, warm against his pale cheeks.

"Can't sleep?"

His master's voice, warmed with sleep and heavy with irony.

"Not a wink."

"Rest here then, you might as well be of some use and keep my bed warm."

Lying so close to him, he hears what Ciel is really saying in the stuttering beat of his heart. He smiles and pretends not to notice when a small, delicate hand curls into his own. He entwines their fingers together, and they both pause to look at the difference in the size of their hands, before a light blush rises on Ciel's cheeks when he notices Sebastian watching him. Huffing a little, the young master turns away irritably with a small, exasperated click of his tongue.

Sebastian noted casually that the young master had no qualms about keeping their hands locked together though.

-

It seemed as though the spring had come after the harsh winter of years.

Ciel was still ornery and temperamental on the worse days, but he hadn't threatened to kick Sebastian out of his apartment for the past three weeks or so, and a disconcerting sensation of hope was beginning to reside uncomfortably in his chest. The comfort that the boy had sought from him, right after Finian's departure from the mortal world, had turned into an oddly comfortable arrangement between the two of them.

He had hoped that with time, he would be able to persuade Ciel to come around to his proposal.

That was to say, a business proposal. What in the world would the young master say if he went down on bended knee, indeed?

The door swung open before he had the chance to knock.

"…you really shouldn't smile like that anymore, one day your face would freeze permanently and then what would you do?" the young man snapped, as though he had been listening in on the demon butler's thoughts.

-

Ciel looked down at the silver ring on his index finger; he had grown barely enough for the ring to stay on that finger without slipping out with a careless wave. Beside him, in a strange parody of their earlier time together, Sebastian undoes the neatly knotted tie and shrugs his jacket off, getting ready to slip into bed beside the young man as he often does. Ciel barely glances up, his eyes captivated by the ethereal twinkle of the sapphire; as deep as the ocean, as vast as the sky.

"Isn't it strange?"

"Hmm?" Sebastian gazes obligingly at the gem, his head cocked to one side.

"Wasn't it just a moment ago when I wondered at the deaths of all its previous owners? As time passes, no one escapes the clutches of death, and so this ring is handed over from generation to generation for hundreds of years. For every owner it's ever had, that is, aside from me."

"Is the young master worried about the ring's succession? If I may say so, the young master still has a chance to meet a nice, young lady and produce a squalling child or ten."

"TEN?!"

Sebastian smiles gently, as he reaches over to brush a butterfly's kiss against the boy's forehead.

"It's always good to take precautions, considering that one might not always be around to keep each of them safe from harm."

Cerulean and violet eyes widen as the boy absorbs his meaning.

Oddly enough, it seems to comfort him, as his body loses some of its tension, settling back into the pillows, and quietly submitting into Sebastian's embrace.

-

The leading toy stores in the world were mediocre at best. The demand for quality was starting to slip as larger and larger sections of the population became much more affluent, preferring to purchase the newest editions of the latest toys for their cherished children. While a doll had been something to treasure in the past, to place upon a stand to admire, or even held and dragged around by children as security blankets, the toys of the modern day stood only to be replaced by a shinier, newer model within days.

As a butler of the Phantomhive's, what could he do if he was unable to keep track of such fluctuations in the market for toys? He made a compilation of the factories that were in danger of eminent shutdown, together with a selection of clippings that detailed the rising popularity in interactive toys, and the features and specifications of the newest and most popular models that were taking the world by storm.

He was tidying the kitchen when he found himself confronted by an irate boy.

"Pray tell, what is the meaning of this?"

He always did adore the way that aristocratic accent slipped back into that clipped tone when the boy was particularly annoyed. Pure anger set off the stumbling, stuttering rage in which words were often discarded for a more physical method of conveying his apoplexy, and mild irritation often led to a sullen silence or even an exasperated roll of the eyes. The trick was to gall him into the right amount of anger, and that fascinating timbre would roll off the tongue as thick as honey.

"Oh? You must have stumbled upon the file which I left behind by mistake. My most humble apologies."

"…why don't I believe you?" the boy asked, tapping his foot as he glared at him.

"Maybe it's because the young master has grown in wisdom over the years, hmm?"

All he got in return for his efforts was a file chucked at his head.

-

He was ushered in by the night, and yet a stranger by day.

It seemed to be what the young master preferred, and it was certainly ideal for his job which required him to be around for almost the entirety of the day when the young master of the Whitfield was awake and ready to conduct his everyday affairs. He would have been pleased to leave his duties if Ciel had expressed an interest in his resignation but the child had said nothing and thus, neither had he. From time to time, he visited the apartment, taking care not to make it an everyday appointment, just in case such an arrangement became a tedious chore for either one of them.

The balance of power between them lay precariously on the edge, with one side showing a distinct weakness, while the other side held back from attacking that sore wound with its usual vengeance. It was a pleasant change of pace, but he couldn't say that he cared for it in particular. It was nice, it was comforting, and it was…what was that word starting with B?

"Boring," he sighed with a smile, folding the last of the laundry.

He had thought that the business plans would be a good idea, but in the days after he had shown that proposal to Ciel, the boy had become strangely silent as though he was really mulling things over. There was the ever-present suspicion that the boy hadn't wanted to be reminded of his past, didn't appreciate such a blatant attempt at getting him to rebuild his empire, but Sebastian had a sneaky feeling that things were much more complicated than that.

Before dawn arrived, he would leave the apartment, the sound of the door latching oddly nostalgic in the silence of the night. He knew that the boy awoke at the same moment that he did, even when he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, and so he always locked the door after him as softly as he could, not wishing for such a lonely sound to penetrate the apartment.

Now, he walked back to the mansion alongside the blinking lights of traffic, his leather shoes tapping softly against the pavement. The feel of silken blue-black strands tingling against his fingers, and the sweet taste of a stolen kiss, intangible and precious, kept him company on his long walk back.

He wondered when exactly his old conviction in a butler's aesthetics had disappeared.

Outside, it started to rain.

* * *

END CHAPTER


	6. Chapter 6

The sky was a dull spread of blood.

Thick droplets slid, sticky and wet, off the petals of the flowers and the slanted stems of the leaves before falling gently into the damp, dark soil.

His new shoes squeaked as he hurried along, and Sebastian spared them a glance of frigid irritation, before reaching into his coat for his watch. Winding the chain around his finger unconsciously, he saw the minute hand move, and realised that the sun would rise in exactly forty seven minutes. Overhead, a shard of lightning split the sky and he walked faster, successfully quelling the quick impulse that called at him to return to that old, dilapidated apartment.

This year would be the hundredth year.

Like their first meeting, much of their acquaintance had been stained in the crimson shade, one as dark as the other, and there had been amusement and a curious fascination at the beginning in finding a twin soul in a helpless, pathetic member of the human race. In the chamber's darkness, a boy endured the horrors inflicted by man onto man, and when the knife had pointed at him in turn, the child gazed long and hard at the glassy eyes of god and screamed for the demon.

Out of simple curiosity, he had responded.

After the child's revenge had been completed, his rights to live were forsaken, and he had been in control until the end when the glimmer of a master he knew came back into those dull blue eyes.

_Will it hurt?_

And he had hesitated, believing it to be curiosity which stayed his hand.

It had been a hundred years since they met, where one had pursued while the other fled, and one had stood still while the other strode across the world in glacial boots, and after a century, this was where they both stood.

They had spent almost five whole years together after he gave Ciel a new lease of life. In that period, he had almost found himself enjoying his service to the child who remained just as temperamental and moody, yet with his soul rotting little by little just as his demon butler encouraged. He didn't think he was simply flattering himself, when Ciel called him into his bedroom at night even when he was past the age of nightmares, and nor had it gone unnoticed that the child grew increasingly attached to him, preferring his company over the rest of his staff. They had been virtually inseparable as Sebastian took it upon himself to teach the child about the ways of the world, and brought him up to model himself in perfectionist tendencies. It had been five short years, too brief and too brilliant, but the child had become a virtuoso on the violin, a beauty of careless glamour, a businessman to the blood as he brought down entire companies and rebuilt them on a whim.

Always, his pride as an aristocrat had allowed him to hold his head high, even when he had to remain hidden to avoid detection when it came to his cold, ageless features which remained innocent, childlike and unsullied by the sordid indulgences of the world. They had been inseparable. Then, Sebastian had been called into the study one day after breakfast, and had been told in no uncertain terms that he was free to leave and that his final task was to avoid interfering in his young master's life ever again.

He never understood why, and his young master had never explained.

Undeterred, he began to visit his young master in the following years, and found him to possess the usual frosty attitude towards him. When Tanaka died, Ciel took down all the mirrors in the Phantomhive estate. When Elizabeth was engaged to a count and Ciel had not even been invited to the reception, no one else in the estate noticed, but Sebastian saw the violet bruises beneath his eyes. Ciel's sapphire eye had caught his then, and even while smiling, he had bid his demon butler a good night as the door was gently closed in his face.

Without warning, the child moved to a new part of a city by himself, and Sebastian wasn't exactly sure how he had managed to survive then, with the access codes to the bank vaults controlled by Sebastian who had perfectly remembered every single one of them.

Until the last drop of blood ran from his veins, there was no way he could escape from the demon.

Sebastian smiled, a touch of cruelty to his lips, until he saw his young master walking in the rain.

"Young master! What do you think you're doing out here? You'd catch a cold in this stormy weather," he chastised gently as he hurried forward to seize the child.

"Honestly, I told you a hundred times not to wander around in the rain before, didn't I?" Sebastian continued in exasperation, holding out his hand for the young boy to take, trusting that the child would come to him, shy and willing. The little boy did, looking abashed, yet with a tell-tale triumph lingering on his lips as he held out his other hand to touch the silky caress of the rain.

The child went indoors, and Sebastian closed the door gently behind them, pretending that he didn't notice the soaked creature that had been following behind him all the way from the other apartment.

-

Maybe it was simple cruelty.

Maybe it was revenge for turning his back on his most faithful companion for so long.

But Sebastian was a demon and demons did not _forgive_. The yearning in his blood to hurt Ciel was one out of sheer malice and not one that arose from a grudge. To imply that it was the latter meant that the other had the power to injure him, and Sebastian gave no one that kind of control over him. He had spent the better part of a century searching for a way to regain the child's trust, and when Ciel broke down in his arms, he had felt a sense of triumph.

"Please don't leave me," the child had said.

He wondered if that plea remained true even now.

He returned to the apartment several days later, wondering if he would find a furious Ciel who would demand never to see him again, or a subdued one who would hide behind the demeanour of a cold aristocrat to mask his wounds.

His young master had always loved games, and he intended this one to be the best game of his life.

Raising his hand to knock, he heard the distinct sound of Ciel's laughter floating up the stairs. His eyes narrowed into flared slits of crimson as his charge stumbled over the steps, still laughing as his companion caught him easily around the wait and pulled him down for a kiss. They separated abruptly, when they caught sight of Sebastian, his eyes furious as he took in the dishevelled appearance of the pair.

"Uh…another client of yours?" the man asked uncertainly, his arm still looped around Ciel's slender waist.

"Nah, he can't afford my rates." Ciel chuckled, leaning up to nuzzle his neck affectionately.

"Really?" the other man snickered incredulously, sparing a quick glance at Sebastian. His eyes snapped back to Ciel as the other breathed against his throat, nipping it sharply before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it as if to demand his full attention.

"Huh. Kinda…" he murmured, casually sliding a hand between Ciel's legs, "Kinda cheap of him, don't you think so?"

The earl whimpered a little and the soft sound made the other groan involuntarily, as he pulled him tight against his body for another kiss, grinding their erections together. A light blush rose on Ciel's cheeks as he laughed a little at the other's enthusiasm, taking his hand and pulling him into the apartment, without a backward glance at Sebastian.

After a few moments, Sebastian was able to smile. Several of his nails had torn from the force in which he had been digging them into the concrete wall, leaving sticky crescents of blood mixed into the crumbled dust of the flaking wall.

He couldn't remember the last time he was this enraged.

-

The doorknob turned easily under his grasp.

So the boy knew that he would come.

He didn't give in to his initial impulses earlier, which demanded that he should tear apart the doors and wrench that poor fool out of his lecherous embrace with the boy, shredding him into pieces on the spot. It would have given him pleasure to have had the dark, thick liquid dripping over the ends of his nails, the fresh feel of soft brains impacting with the floor as he mercilessly crushed that pretty head into splinters. But he realised that it was probably what the child had intended, and he did so dislike to play a written role in the script.

Nevertheless, he had returned to that apartment, an hour after he had satiated his bloodlust satisfactorily. It took him more time he had expected, and less time than he had hoped, but parts of his victim were now spread in an obscene mass of red, slick against a wall.

Strangely enough, it had been somewhere between the forcible removal of intestines and the tearing out of a weakly beating heart where he heard the same subdued voice echo in his head.

A memory of a wintry day in December.

_This is how I choose to live. _

He had paused, thoughts unfurling one by one, peeling away to reveal the hidden core.

"This is how I choose to live. This is how I choose, to live." He murmured wonderingly, a manic sense of relief washing over him. It had been so simple all along, just another child's desires aching, bewildering, twisting into his gut. Unknowingly, violet thorns had embedded themselves into his young master's soul, tearing him apart from the inside, relentlessly pushing their way out into the open.

-

"So you came, after all."

He watched closely this time, paid attention to every flicker of those long eyelashes and the involuntary widening of eyes when he stepped through the doorway silently. His unnatural silence and his malice hushed – it was only what his lord would have wanted – and he saw his reflection in that clear blue eye, beneath those generous lashes, a single hand gloved in white as he held out his hand and waited expectantly for his young master.

_Was it worth it, my lord? _

_Yes. Yes, every minute of it._

His lord had waited until he had left, before he allowed himself to cry, the racking sobs audible through the thin door. His aunt had died and kept her vow of silence, she hadn't told anyone of Sebastian's origins, but she had not professed any desire to see her nephew either. His lord's kin had vanished off the face of the chessboard, as his parents, his aunt and now the marchioness disappearing as silently as they came. One by one, the pieces were vanishing, pointing to Sebastian as the sole inheritor of the young Earl's trust, and something of that fierce reliance on a single entity must have chilled him to the bone.

Only a demon, ambivalent and merciless.

"You chose to live," he said simply, and watched as the flicker of a brief emotion confirmed his doubts.

There were no more reasons to sustain his lord's interest in the world; neither wealth nor prestige, neither friends nor family could plead their attachment to the blue-eyed youth, to convince him that the struggle to live was a greater pleasure than the succinct temptation of death. All he possessed was the promise of his butler to serve by his side endlessly, and the cold temptation of the stretched life of a half-human and demon; life and death no longer seemed as distinct as they were but reflecting mirrors showing the touch of two hands separated by an invisible divide.

"Promise that you will not let anyone touch you like that again," he murmured, leaning down till his lips could brush Ciel's ear. He stiffened as his fingers froze on the lapels of his jacket momentarily, before he began to remove Sebastian's jacket unsteadily.

"You're asking for a lot, you bastard."

He noticed that Ciel didn't disagree, and he smiled, even when he was busy stripping the young man, intentionally brushing against him from time to time and making him shudder. His fingers brushed the soft, long fringe gently to the side, caressing the black silky cloth that covered the evidence of their bond. Pressing a kiss against the cloth gently, fingers curled into the soft skin at the back of Ciel's neck, his heart harboured an odd note of triumph when the child's breathing became uneven.

"Do you love me?" Ciel asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you ordering me to?"

For a moment, he thought he had broken his most cherished possession, the abrupt look in Ciel's eyes so wild and the depths of misery in them making him want to break his own rules to sample the clear, flawed flavour of the boy's soul. It called to him, mesmerising like the sheer intensity of lush plum lines embedded in the iridescent shimmer of a clear amethyst held to light.

Then the wind chime had tinkled softly, and that moment passed.

"Just curious." Ciel smiled at him, and pulled him close against his body.

-

Ciel was gone the next morning.

He spent the next half of the year, focusing on his duties in the Whitfield mansion, sharpening his skills as a butler. He was endlessly complimented by his master, and sought after by his master's rivals for the keenness of his business sense and the ruthlessness of his despatch of weaker companies. He was feared in the conglomerate that the Whitfield family had steadily built up over generations even though he had helped them to avert the bankruptcy which had appeared inevitable until several years ago, when the butler had first arrived at the family. There were rumours that he was of supernatural origins of course, but he dismissed those rumours offhandedly and smiled to show his amusement at such foolish notions.

His immediate master was pleased with his success, but the man was old and his days were limited.

At any rate, his contract would be due to be completed within a year.

He was in no hurry to search for Ciel. Indeed, he had no reason to do so. Now that his doubts had been confirmed, he knew for a certainty that Ciel Phantomhive _loved_ him and he was sure that the young boy would return to London before long, seeking out his company where he had avoided it before. It was inevitable. That one night, he could see the child's desperation in his eyes and it was only a matter of time before they met again, perhaps even in a glimpse in the cold of the streets.

The night was starting to fall, and the chill had begun to settle in the streets where the faded leaves gathered at the side of the roads, swept up by the wind.

-

He awoke when December came.

Spirits were high and the festivities were endless, the season of celebration in riotous tumult with the glitter of beckoning shops and the incessant choirs of Christmas carols broadcasted everywhere. Red and green were seen on numerous doors, frosted windows and sprays of faux flowers entwined with the sparkling Christmas lights which changed their colours repetitively. Showers of gold and silver were thrown onto each stark tree, angels and five pointed stars dangling from their very tips.

It had started to snow a week ago, a gentle fall of white that had gathered on the roofs and turned to sludge on the roads.

He caught a snowflake on his tongue, his eyes alighting on a familiar apartment in the distance.

It was the 14th of December again.

He made his way there on foot, bearing an elaborate cake that he had baked over the course of the day. It was a chocolate fondant cake with a Swiss meringue butter cream outer coat to cut the sweetness of the melting chocolate; while swirls of whipped cream and sugar powdered strawberries lined the circumference. It was a beautiful sight, as repulsive as it would taste to him, but he had no doubt that the sugared monstrosity would have set many mouths watering.

Passing the church on the right, he ignored the blaze that skirted his periphery in flickering orange and yellow, the voices raised in simultaneous harmony, as the snow started to fall in greater amounts from the sky.

The piano chords made something twist in his chest.

_Hurry. _

It took him longer than he had hoped, but less time than he had expected, before he reached the foot of the apartment block. A sudden draft caused loose sheets of newspapers to flutter across the lift landing, rustling against his foot as he stood and waited for the lift to descend. The strange sense of urgency that had gripped him only moments before had dissipated.

Moments later, he stood in front of the door with the rusted grills.

He raised his hand to knock, only to find that the door swung open at a touch, the cold winds blowing into it swiftly. The lights did not work, and the claustrophobic grey of the London skies had infiltrated the apartment, leaving the place hollowed and the sound of dripping water and the single bell of the wind chime, loud against the canyon of the ash-like home.

The sounds of life did not carry through, but the stench of blood was burning through him.

Flickering light came from the half-opened bathroom door.

A bathtub of blood, lush rose petals floating on the glassy surface, a single stained razor that had fallen haphazardly to the side, and left traces of crimson against the floor. Candles lit the bathroom and threw the boy's face into shadow. Unnaturally white and unmarked by the sanguinary pool that he lay in, his head rested against the side of the off-white tub.

Beside the tub, was a small, black velvet box tied in a crimson ribbon.

Sebastian bent down and picked up the box, loosening the ribbon with practised ease. His cold fingers pried it open carefully, to reveal the heirloom of the Phantomhive family, a brilliant blue diamond set in a silver ring.

A ring to watch over the deaths of all its owners.

If Ciel couldn't have him completely to himself, then his life was not worth living? It was such a childish notion, wanting to belong to one another completely, from their bodies to their souls. He despaired at the foolish, romantic notion of humans, obsessed with the strange, elusive illusion they believed to be love. It was nothing but a delusion, nothing but a strange fancy to ease the passage of years, a farce to calm the delirium of society into believing that they too, could belong to someone who would love them as completely as they had hoped.

Even so, this would be the hundredth year.

He had lived and breathed in a dream that lasted a hundred years, and he had yet to awaken from it.

He picked up the razor and loosened his tie.

-

_Until the bitter end, I will follow you.__  
_


End file.
